Laze on the couch, sideways,watching ants attack waed on the gift boxtop, Magic, worst thing to teach kidswith addictive tendencies, those who fillholes with things they hope won't deterioratein time after all of the money they paidBills stack, get paid, too, but the space leftis huge, too gaping for the remainingmessed up bunch of tight, clinched presidentsNever thought Washington bought ice creamand got fat, or thought that Jackson dug green,pipe cleaned, choked on weed til oxygen became an old means, but here I slink, giving themto family, so I can recede comfortably onan old futon with broke dreams, with full sink,two XLs, to be honest, it feels too real, feels too deep, feels like I best hold homeand blow dro, sleep to the X-bone beep.

She feeds off my dedicationandLives off my Love.Don't dare tell her how I feelbecause that becomes a Power.It is nolonger my choice to her.She grabs ahold and hikes it above her head-Taunting me;Teasing me;Daring me.I reach for it-Yelling;Screaming;Threatening.Maddened with the authority I gave her.Strickened with the will to ignorebutUnable to adhere.

Sooo...My eyes waterandMy tongue swells.My mind dictatesbutMy body lays ignorant to its wisdoms.I know what I can do.I know what I should do.I know what I would do-If only I didn't ...Love her.

"You ain't goin nowhere," she says.

I want to scream, "Oooh yes the fuck I am!"ButMy head just dips in that "youre so right" kind of wayandThe Vulture struts away- Proud.

I couldn't help notice in my devotionto your pink lips, sweet breath,from your deep depths, the impendingkiss that follows the free spitof a wordsmith tastes more unpleasantsince you quit calling a noose a noose, gave the blind spot presence.